


Of Actaeon and Artemis

by wildarcana15



Series: It's All Greek To Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dom Sam Winchester, Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Introspection, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Multi, POV Sam Winchester, Pansexual Sam Winchester, Pining, Sam feels like Dean's better than him at everything, Self-Esteem Issues, Sub Dean Winchester, at which point he decides Dean's the moon, but he has being good at sex going for him, idk how to tag y'all i'm sorry, it makes more sense in context i promise, until he notices Dean's gotten more comfortable about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildarcana15/pseuds/wildarcana15
Summary: Sam's always felt that Dean's better than him at everything - up to and including hunting. But one thing he knows he's really good at is sex.So he's flaunting his sexual prowess. He's not using that fact to get Dean to notice him. Honest!Dean notices him.It ends happily for all parties.





	Of Actaeon and Artemis

It’s not like Sam’s  _ trying _ to bait Dean.

He just wants to make Dean take notice. For Dean to finally actually get flustered when Sam winks at him, for him to be affected by the pull he can exert on anyone else he wants.

Okay, so maybe it  _ is _ like he’s trying to bait Dean.

He should know better; Dean won’t bite on something he knows is a lure unless he feels like he doesn’t have a choice, and there are so many fish in the particular ocean Dean prefers that it’s a hopeless endeavour.

Dean’s a hunter. He knows a trap when he sees it, and he won’t get caught unless he wants to be.

Sam’s never been as good at hunting as Dean is. Hell, he’s never been as good as Dean, period.

Not to his father, and not to himself either.

Oh, Sam’s pretty sanguine about it. It’s not like he’s helpless, or useless either, what with the research and the textbook skills. He knows he’s smart - that’s not conceit, it’s just knowing he got into fucking Stanford, when most kids he was up against get trained since birth for college, not hunting.

But no matter what he does, what he did, he’s never as good at hunting as Dean.

Something about him just doesn’t care enough, not like Dean does. He wants to help people, and he wants to protect them, and on the surface, on the numbers, he looks like he’s good.

But that’s just it. He hunts  _ well _ , he doesn’t hunt  _ right _ .

He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Dean would say to that summary:  _ who gives a crap so long as the end result is the same - and since when have you cared about all that shit Dad said anyway, Sammy? _

Except both he and Dean know that Sam’s always placed a lot more stock in Dad’s words than he ever pretended to, has kept a hell of a lot more internalised issues than he’ll ever admit to having.

So Sam knows he’s not as good as Dean, not ever, not in anything that matters.

Except he has this one thing. Besides the research, besides Stanford and his sharp focus on honing his body that Dean’s never really gotten behind what with his obsession with burgers.

He’s really fucking good at sex.

So can he really be blamed if he flaunts it - this one thing where he comes out on top?

He knows it’s probably at least in part his unprocessed, internalised issues, but he’s pretty sure it’s also just a part of him, how much he enjoys it.

He doesn’t go after sex as often as Dean, because he hates having to see how Dean casts himself into the world to get laid. It’s reckless, and Sam’s terrified that one day Dean will surrender himself to the wrong person and he’ll get hurt in a way he doesn’t want - because yeah, he’s noticed the bruises and the scratches, how could he not.

The fact Dean clearly likes it rough,  _ invites _ them to take him and give it to him; the way he picks a person and falls into their orbit, changing their entire axis until it shifts towards him.

It’s incredible to watch; how Dean just exists at them until they want him or they don’t, and he comes out of it just as much himself either way.

Sam understands completely how people tilt into Dean. It’s like he’s the moon, and the people are the tides that have decided to sway to him, to take him, because it’s impossible to not want to see him and worship his body and heart and goddamn charisma

Something about it calls to him; taunts him to pursuit.

Because Dean’s been watching him; and he’s gotten cockier, flaunts his conquests more and more over time. He’s got this look about him, like he’s finally figured out what makes him tick, and he and the people he fucks look so pleased about it that Sam wants to take his response and use it to shove Dean down onto the bed and fuck him into incoherent beauty.

It’s beyond distracting.

He’s always wondered, idly, why Dean’s pick up lines even work. None of them are good; they’re usually lines people have heard since the dawn of time, and possibly even earlier.

But now, he gets it.

There’s a kind of honesty to it; the play of a line, the quirk of a smile and a flick of his eyes that gets everyone involved on the same page right away, that sets off the shift in attention that is no less strong for all that people know exactly how and why it’s happening.

Dean licks his lips after his drinks, and it’s probably an unconscious habit, but it’s also fucking attractive. He smiles, and yeah, he’s got to know that’s a feature of his, of his easy charm and easy nature - though not, himself,  _ easy _ , because that’s a concept for jerks who think slut or whore is a necessary term outside of consented-to humiliation kink.

Yeah, Dean acts when he wants someone - but he’s also open about it, upfront about what he wants and what he likes and doesn’t, and he seems like he’s generally happy to take whatever is dished out, and when he doesn’t want it he’ll stop. 

And it only makes the freshly-made hickeys, the soft, fucked-out look he gets after, even hotter. Because it’s so blatantly clear that Dean  _ likes _ being like that; likes being vulnerable and aching from being pleasantly used.

So Sam wants and wants, but always from a distance, because there’s lusting after his brother, and then there’s acting on said lust, and the latter crosses a line he’s not sure he wants to even toe half as much as he does. Sometimes he thinks he’s spent his entire life making sure he doesn’t stand quite close enough for them to actually touch.

But keeping himself away isn’t easy.

Because Dean eyes people up and lets them take him home when he wants them to, and the fucker even  _ winks _ at Sam while some anonymous bargoer gets to wrap their fingers in his hair and tug him to the bed while Dean grins, joyful with lust. Which is fundamentally unfair, because it’s so far outside of an act that it’s not even funny.

It’s like Dean’s the moon, the pinnacle of a hunter, and Sam’s the lucky bastard who gets to catch a glimpse of him unveiled by pretension or disguise.

Sam’s a grateful observer, hunter turned hunted by a single look from Dean, and he has to choose between running, or worshipping at his altar.

Like it’s ever really been a choice.

So Sam finally gives in. He lets himself turn his eyes to Dean, lets himself admire up close, not just from a distance. Feels his axis shift, his oblique nature falling direct into Dean’s existence, as he comes into his orbit willingly and changes everything simply by the act of existing and wanting.

And he worships him with biting kisses, lays deep bruises into Dean’s skin to hear his pained, desperate whimpers of desire, and is so very, achingly, bone-deep content to take everything Dean offers him. To give libations of need and touch and fiercely possessive love, in return.

Dean’s body is warm and solid and real against him, gone gentle and gorgeous under him, and Sam has no clue how he got so fucking lucky, but he will never complain about a single second.

He gets to see Dean wearing his marks, see him satisfied and sweet in submission to his desires, and it’s like he’s fucking an actual goddess, with his sturdy, purposeful muscle and his unconscious grace.

So yeah. Sam’s a hunter, caught, ensnared by the beauty of the moon, his natural goddess; his Dean.

And he’s pretty fucking okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not sure what this small series even is, but I hope it is enjoyable!
> 
> I can't tell if the entire premise of this series is pretentious or just plain nerdy, but I hope it is fun to read in any case! 
> 
> Comments make me happier than Sam is after his unrequited pining gets requited!
> 
> PS: The title is a reference to how Sam thinks of himself as Actaeon, the hunter who caught a glimpse of Artemis, goddess of hunting, and fell in love with her.
> 
> PPS: I recognise that some of this POV may contradict Dean's POV from the previous part of the series. It is because I feel like Sam and Dean each have a differing view on their same dynamic. <3


End file.
